


Drop It Like It's Hot - Jailhouse Rock

by Awahili



Series: Determinant [32]
Category: Zoo (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Series Rewrite, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 12:38:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16408664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awahili/pseuds/Awahili
Summary: "In every moment of choice, you create a new destiny." After bring arrested for the murder of Reiden's CEO, Jamie has to figure out how to help the team and save herself in the process. A Jamie/Mitch rewrite.





	Drop It Like It's Hot - Jailhouse Rock

**Author's Note:**

> Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

The last time Jamie had been inside a jail cell had been her sophomore year of college. It had been a stupid party and she’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Luckily the mishap had been cleared up without needing to involve her aunt and uncle, and there had been no formal charge on her record. Still, those few hours stuck behind bars had been harrowing and twenty year old Jamie had been terrified until the officer had come by to release her.

Now, things were different. This time she wasn’t afraid. Confessing to the murder of Leanne Ducovny had been one of the easiest things she’d ever done. It had to be done, she reasoned. There had been no other way, and now she had to see it through to the end. 

She spared a thought for Mitch. He was probably nearly apoplectic at hearing the news. She imagined he was just outside, barking at anyone who passed by that there was some mistake, that there was no way Jamie could have done it. Ten, eleven years ago she would have agreed with him. The old Jamie could never have taken a life. But so many things had changed since then.

She remembered her first kill - the gunshots echoing in the stairwell, Ben Schaffer’s body crumpling under the onslaught of the five bullets that pierced his chest. She could still see his face all these years later, a mixture of shock and pain that had haunted her for many sleepless nights afterward.

Her second kill had come so swiftly, she hadn’t realized what she’d done until it was over. Logan’s associates had cornered them, attacked them for a prize that no longer existed. Jamie had fought her life and won. The knife had plunged into his chest during their struggle, and though Jamie couldn’t recall his face as clearly as Ben’s she could still feel the dead weight of him as they lay at the bottom of their hill they’d tumbled down.

Her third hadn’t been a real kill, though at the time it had been her belief - and her intention. Shoving Logan from the plane while in flight had satisfied something primal in her, even though her brain told her it was wrong. She’d pumped him full of tranquilizers just seconds before, rendering him unable to pull his parachute cord. It was a cold, sweet revenge for his betrayal of her trust, and it had scared her how easily the decision had come. She was surrendering to the darkness, and it had taken quite a bit of strength and Mitch’s steadfast support to pull her back from that precipice.

Now she stood accused of her fourth murder, though to almost everyone else on the planet it was her first. It was almost unfathomable. She wondered if history would remember her now as a killer rather than a hero. It didn’t matter. Reiden needed to be stopped, and this was the only way. She had one shot at getting out of this, and she needed to make sure she used it appropriately. 

“Campbell!” A female officer barked from the end of the hall. Jamie stood and moved to the front of her cell as the officer held up a set of handcuffs.

Jamie grimaced. “I won’t try to run,” she tried to reason. “I promise.”

“Procedure,” the officer said curtly, though there was a hint of sympathy when she continued. “Sorry.” 

Jamie sighed and turned around, accepting the snap of cool metal around her wrist. The officer at least didn’t close them too tightly, and Jamie gave the other woman a small smile of thanks when she turned around. Her eyes fell to the nameplate fastened neatly on the woman’s left breast and recorded the name Henson for later consideration. Something overhead buzzed loudly as her door slid away and the officer beckoned with one arm for Jamie to step out. She did, and Henson grabbed her arm gently to lead her out of the holding area and down a long hallway.

The room behind the second to last door was a small square interrogation space with a single table in the center of the room. Jamie was deposited in the chair facing the door. 

“Put your hands here,” Henson indicated the small vertical bar set into the center of the table, just tall enough to slip the chain of the cuffs through. She unlocked Jamie’s right hand, fed the cuff through and then slid it around her wrist again. Then she gave the whole thing a tug for posterity.

“Seriously?” Jamie asked.

“Procedure,” the officer repeated a little more sympathetically before leaving Jamie alone with her thoughts. 

She’d watched enough crime shows to figure out what happened next. The door would open and two detectives would come in. One would sit and the other would stand over against the wall. She would be asked a series of questions about the crime, all of which she would ignore until she could ask for her lawyer. Or, at least, until she could enact her plan. 

She didn’t have to wait long. Surprisingly there was only one cop - Detective Westfield. His eyes were set in a hard stare as he entered, and every line of his body screamed frustration. He had been the one to clear them, after all. He’d let them into the building, and Jamie’s actions had possibly undermined his credibility and cost him his job. She wondered idly if he were actually even allowed to be the one interrogating her; she was sure there was some sort of conflict of interest here.

But Detective Westfield took his seat like he had every confidence in his ability to do his job, so Jamie accepted his presence with a curt nod. 

“Your friends are outside,” he began. “They seem rather...adamant that you’re innocent.” He flipped open the folder he’d laid on the table when he sat down. “But it’s going to take more than friends to get you out of this one. We have your prints on the door handle, on Miss Ducovny’s tablet, and on the body. And,” he added with an eerie calm, “your confession at the crime scene.”

“I want to speak to my attorney,” she said immediately.

Westfield looked like he’d expected this. “Have you called them?”

“I’m representing myself,” she went on. At his almost cheerful surprise she added, “And I’m appointing Mitch Morgan as my co-counsel.”

Westfield shook his head sharply. “You can’t -”

“Actually,” she interrupted, “if you pull my medical records, you’ll see that I’ve been diagnosed with PTSD. Because of that disability, I’m allowed to appoint co-counsel when choosing to self-represent.”

Westfield looked shocked for a moment, clearly not used to dealing with people who had a good grasp of the law. “You’re appointing a vet to be your lawyer? That is a terrible idea.”

“What do you care? All you want is a conviction, right?” Jamie challenged. “Now, I’d like to speak to my co-counsel before answering any questions, as is my right as an accused person.”

“Fine,” Westfield snapped the folder closed and stood. “I’ll go let him know the good news.”

Jamie breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind him. The plan had worked. Now all she had to do was convince Mitch to help her.

When the door opened again a few moments later, it was Mitch who came through. He looked equal parts bewildered and upset, but he masked it with relief when he saw her.

“Jamie, are you okay? What the hell is going on? Did you appoint me as your _lawyer_?” He rushed to her side and crouched down. She saw his eyes fall to the handcuffs that kept her chained to the table. “This is insane, Jamie.”

“I know,” she said. “But there was no other way.”

“Tell me the truth,” Mitch implored, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “You didn’t really kill this woman, right?”

Jamie held his stare for a long moment, hoping she wouldn’t have to lie to him. He didn’t relent. Finally her shoulder sagged, and the metal cuffs clinked against the table.

“No,” she said quietly, “but they can’t know that.”

Mitch sprung up, his hands flailing comically around him. “Jamie!”

“I know what I’m doing, Mitch.”

“In what crazy, backwards dystopian future are you living that confessing to murder is a logical step in whatever machiavellian plan you’ve concocted?” He was agitated - she could tell by the way his mouth was starting to run away with his words. She was just thankful he was still making sense; they still had no way of knowing when that thing in his head would decide to stop him from speaking forever.

She waited for a moment until she was sure she had his attention again and then beckoned him closer. He dragged the chair from the opposite side of the table and positioned it as close to her as he could manage. His hand slipped over her knee under the table and out of view of any prying eyes that might be eavesdropping (illegally, her mind added) into the room.

“I found something when I was looking for Brittany Mason,” she said quietly, pitching her voice so low that it barely carried across the inches between them. “Something Reiden’s got locked away so tightly, no one can get at it. Not even Robin. That’s why my fingerprints are on her tablet; I was trying to use her device to access that file.”

“Okay,” Mitch matched her tone, though he drew out the word. “So how does that become...this?” He gestured vaguely to her constraints.

“In the course of a criminal investigation, my lawyer - that’s you - can request that document with the discovery power. Reiden will be forced to release it.”

“If it has something to do with the murder,” Mitch reasoned.

“She knows where Brittany Mason is,” Jamie pressed. “I’m sure of it. We just need to access her tablet and get that document.” He didn’t seem too convinced, but the fact that she hadn’t actually killed Leanne Ducovny had gone a long way into releasing some of the tension in his shoulders.

“Alright,” he sighed. “I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime,” he stood and leaned forward to brush a kiss over her brow, “try not to get into any more trouble.”

Jamie watched him go, hoping that this wasn’t the last time she saw him. Ever since the discovery of the biodrive, there was a small voice in the back of her head telling that this was it, this was the last time she’d ever get to talk to him. Every time she saw him, every time he appeared after a brief absence, it felt like a reunion all over again. 

The door clicked shut behind him and she regretted not at least telling him she loved him. Had she told him since his return? She couldn’t remember. The last few days were a blur in her memory. She hoped so. She knew he knew, but suddenly she wanted nothing more than to call him back and tell him, to hear the words fall from her lips and to watch his whole face light up upon hearing them. 

Jamie let her eyes fall closed. There was little she could do now. She just hoped Mitch could work his magic and get her what she needed. The more she looked into Brittany Mason, the more she was convinced that something bad had happened to her. Jamie still had no idea what Reiden wanted with the young woman, but it was enough motive for Jamie just to keep her out of their hands. She just prayed she hadn’t already failed.

The clock on the wall ticked each second, and the steady rhythm lulled Jamie into a light doze. When the door opened abruptly she jerked up in her seat, surprised to see that almost an hour had passed since Mitch had left. He was back (she tried to mask her sudden and intense relief) flanked by Detective Westfield and Logan. All three men looked grumpy, and Jamie stifled a smile at the matching scowls on their faces.

“What’s he doing here?” She raised her chin in Logan’s direction.

“We found something on the tablet,” Mitch said with an odd expression on his face, “about Brittany Mason.”

Logan took over with just a hint of smug pride. “And since she is the subject of a rather intense nationwide hunt by the IADG, I asked to be attached to this investigation.”

Westfield looked murderous. “Both of you just stand over there,” he gestured toward the side wall. “And shut up.”

“Excuse me,” Mitch instead move to stand next to Jamie, “but as Jamie’s co-counsel I don’t think -”

“Enough,” Westfield barked. He tossed the folder from earlier down onto the table almost dismissively as he pulled out the tablet. “I know you didn’t kill her,” he told Jamie. “The question is why did you lie?”

Jamie clenched her teeth. This whole plan was dependent on the police believing her to be the murderer. The investigation would dissolve otherwise, and she needed to get at that tablet.

“It’s alright,” Mitch said quietly. “We’ve already accessed the information on the tablet.”

Jamie’s head whipped around to him. “How? Court orders don’t happen that fast.”

“We, uh, sort of went straight to the source,” Logan answered. He rubbed his eye absently as Mitch cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Right, well, we managed to bypass the bio-protection and get at the information,” Mitch said. “You were right. Reiden knows where Brittany Mason is.”

“Who is Brittany Mason?” Westfield demanded. “What the hell is going on Logan?”

“It’s too much to explain right now,” Logan said, “but the IADG has been looking for Miss Mason for a while. She took something from Reiden and they want it back. We just didn’t know what it was. Until now.”

Jamie looked at Mitch, then to Logan and back again. “And? What is it?”

Mitch just sighed. “She, uh, apparently stole a highly experimental drug, one of a kind. It allowed her to...to get pregnant.”

“What?” Jamie felt her head spinning at the onslaught of information. Out of all the scenario’s Jamie had concocted in her mind, this one had never even entered her thoughts.

“Yeah, we were shocked, too.” Mitch adjusted his glasses one one hand. “You looked at her history, right?”

“Yeah. Her mother died when she was little and her father was some conspiracy nut - Roswell, JFK, the whole shebang.”

“Right, well, Brittany and a few others were in an old fallout shelter that had been refitted with hermetic seals. Apparently they stayed in there for almost a year. Now residual traces of the gas remained in the air for a while and rendered everyone sterile once they emerged, but it’s possible that since she didn’t receive a full dose, once her body hit puberty it changed her just enough to allow for the possibility of pregnancy.” Mitch began gesturing as his mind worked through the science. “The drug Reiden developed might have been just the right trigger to make her fertile again.”

“What was the drug?”

“We couldn’t find that information. But we did find a document about Melvatox-B,” Logan answered. “It was a migraine drug developed by a company called Melvatox. But it had severe side effects and they went bankrupt. Guess who bought them out?”

Jamie felt her lip curling in disgust. “Reiden.”

“For pennies on the dollar,” he confirmed. “And that’s not all. We also found evidence that Leanne Ducovny hired a group of kidnappers to grab Brittany Mason and bring her back to Reiden. As far as well can tell, they succeeded. Only Leanne died before Brittany could be delivered.”

Jamie was still trying to process everything and almost missed the last bit of news. “So where is she now?”

“That’s the thing,” Logan shook his head. “We don’t know. They were supposed to contact Leanne to figure out a drop off point, but they hadn’t by the time of her death. We can only assume they attempted to make contact, we unable to, and are now in the wind.”

“I might be able to help with that,” Westfield raised a finger. “There are only a handful of mercenary groups in the area who could pull off something like this. Let me put out some feelers and see what shakes out.”

“In the meantime,” Mitch put in, “can we get Jamie out of here?”

“There’s still the question of who killed Leanne Ducovny,” Westfield said.

“It wasn’t Jamie,” Mitch said firmly.

“Except she confessed,” Westfield replied. “And in the absence of any evidence to the contrary or any other suspects, I have to keep her in custody.”

“It’s fine,” Jamie turned in her seat as far as her restraints would allow and stared at Mitch. “I’ll be fine here. You and Logan need to go find Brittany Mason.”

“I’m not leaving you here,” Mitch argued hotly. “No way.”

“Mitch, it’s the only way. There’s no time. You have to find Brittany and get her to safety.”

He clenched his jaw so tightly she could practically hear his teeth grinding together. Finally he sagged. “Fine,” he huffed. “We’ll look for her here in the city. But I’m not leaving New York without you.”

“I would appreciate that,” Jamie smiled, trying to wipe any traces of fear from her eyes. Her plan had worked; they had gotten the information they needed and they were one step closer to finding Brittany Mason. Now all she had to do was convince Westfield she didn’t actually commit murder. Mitch held her gaze for one more moment, and in his eyes she saw everything he wouldn’t say in front of others. She made sure he saw the same thing in hers. 

Once alone, Jamie turned to the detective across the table. “Any chance I can get out of these cuffs?”

Westfield looked pissed, and she couldn’t blame him. They had crashed into his city, figuratively speaking, and turned his entire world upside down in a matter of hours. Still, she could see that he was beginning to come around to the idea that Jamie and the others were telling the truth. He dug into his pocket for his keys and set to unlocking the bracelets from her wrists.

Once free, Jamie rubbed at the red skin. “Thanks. Now, can you tell me how they got this file?”

“You know, I’m supposed to be the one asking questions.”

Jamie didn’t have time for his bruised ego. “Right, and I’m sure you’re very good at your job. But right now you’re in over your head. You remember everything that went down ten years ago? We were right in the middle of it. And it’s all gonna happen again if we don’t figure this out. So please,” she pushed the tablet back toward him, “tell me.”

Westfield eyed her warily, sizing her up. He must have not found her wanting, because the next thing she knew he was flipping open a folder and shoving a document at her. “They came to me with the tablet already unlocked. I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to know. But they found this file. I tried open it on the tablet, but the SDE stopped me.”

“Single Device Encryption,” Jamie mumbled. “Okay, but if Leanne’s tablet wasn’t the device…”

“It was this,” he pulled a small petri dish from his pocket and passed it over. Inside lay a small, concave disc that looked remarkably like a contact lens. 

“An ocular-chip lens,” Jamie felt all of the pieces finally falling into place. And in this she also saw her salvation. “These things do a lot more than decrypt files.”

“They do.” He stood, swiping the lens, the tablet and the file folder into a neat pile. “Come on.” He led her out the door and down the hall, keeping a sharp eye out as they rounded a corner. “Remember, you’re technically still a suspect in a murder case so keep your head down, alright?”

Jamie did as she was told, following dutifully and keeping her eyes down and away from any curious stares. The elevator took them up three flights, and when the doors opened Jamie caught a glimpse of block letters on a glass door before Westfield opened it and ushered her through.

“Welcome to the kingdom of the nerds.” Computer banks lined one far wall, and dotted among the bullpen were various men and women with matching polos. “Our cyber division is state of the art, and these techs are among the best in the world.”

Jamie wanted to point out that if they were the best, then why did they only work for a municipal police district. Then she remembered his earlier comment about keeping her head down and wondered if that had been a comment on her nature rather than actual advice. She kept quiet.

“Detective Westfield,” a middle aged man with carefully coiffed hair and a bright smile greeted them from the back of the room. He walked purposefully toward them, his eyes darting from Westfield to Jamie and back again. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”

Westfield held up the small dish that held the lens. “Derek, I need one of your techs to analyze this ocular chip. It belonged to the Reiden CEO. We need to see what she saw in her last moments.”

Derek took the chip and whistled low through his teeth. “Tough ask. For something like that you want Griffin.” Derek turned and shouted the name down the nearest row of desks. A girl in her thirties popped up and came over. She had dark hair pulled back into a low tail and square glasses on a hawkish nose. 

“Boss?”

“Detective Westfield needs your quick fingers, Griffin. Ocular chip from the Reiden CEO. We need the last moments recorded on it.” He handed it to her 

“Someone like that is gonna have major failsafes,” Griffin said, “but I think I can do it. Come on.” She led them down the row to her workspace. She typed a code onto the digital keypad for her top drawer, and when it slid open she extracted a flat screen. She removed the lid from the dish and upturned it onto the screen, then pulled a pair of tweezer from her desk drawer and maneuvered the chip onto a small circular area at the top. Something beeped and she stopped, dropping the tweezers in favor of tapping controls on the screen.

“Here we go.” 

Jamie tried to keep up with the keystrokes, but Griffin was too fast. Mere seconds after the lens touched the screen, a download bar appeared.

“Whoa,” Westfield pointed toward it, though he kept his distance. “What’s happening?”

The lens was literally dissolving on its own, but Griffin didn’t seem worried. “Security measure,” she drawled. “It’s fine.” And it was. The download bar zipped across the screen, completing mere milliseconds before the lens dissolved completely. “Got it.”

Westfield laid his palm flat against the desk and leaned in. “Well, let’s see who killed Leanne Ducovny.”


End file.
